Of Writing Books and Making Films

Posted on 9:40 PM In: ,
I woke up this morning, sat up on my bed, and realized something.

I don't want to be a film maker.

See, recently, my dad said he'd let us get another degree after graduation. I decided on film school because it seems fun. I enjoyed my short-movie-making-experience a lot anyway. So, it's been decided: After my graduation, we (the three of us--Ara, Mikee, and I) will all go to UP Diliman and study something.

This morning, I realized that I don't want to do any of that. Maybe I would, but a movie isn't that thing I would want to consider as my life's work.

What I want is a novel. I want to write. I want to write a book. And I want somebody else to make a movie out of that book. Then it'll be a huge hit-- Harry Potter huge. After that, I'll just be sitting on my super expensive couch in my super expensive home in Santorini, Greece, waiting for my personal money raker to rake my money in my money room. Writing a novel will make me a freaking gazillionaire.

See, I have it all figured out! But then again, I can do that while in film school, right?

Please say yes.

Epic Fail

Posted on 11:43 PM In: ,
I'll never look at a magazine again.

This semester, I figured I'd go pa-bibo for once. I did; I took the Editor-in-Chief position for our class magazine-- a requirement for my Journalism 111 (Magazine Writing and Production) class and was 40% of the entire class' grade.

To make things short, I epically failed. I did what I thought an EIC would do except for the last part where I was supposed to edit everything before the files are sent to the printers. Time just flew and I couldn't keep up. We couldn't keep up. It was my fault because I wasn't able to manage our time effectively. Don't get me wrong, I did set deadlines (which my writers can't seem to meet every time); I even made a timeline. But with all of the other things that my writers were supposed to do outside our class, the schedule just became useless.

I wasn't okay with it, really. Many times I've felt like they don't respect my orders at all. But then again, yelling at someone or nagging them or getting mad won't get the job done. I'll just attract enemies. Negative emotions with in the work room would just pile up.

My fellow editors said that I was too kind. I guess they're right and this time, my kindness caused a terrible ending for the entire class. We almost got a 5.00 for that project but because we bargained and begged, our teacher agreed to give us a higher grade. I still don't know what grade she gave for our magazine. I don't want to know.

Once again I've proven to myself that being pa-bibo is not really my thing. I'm not a leader. I'm a follower; I'm an outcast who does not care about what you say but definitely cares about the project and I'd do what I want as long as I know that it would make the project better. But I can't lead. I just can't. I'm a disgrace to all Aries peeps (see, my History teacher once told us that Aries people are natural leaders).

No magazines for the next 25 years for me.

*puts head between knees and quietly sobs*

Tragedy

Posted on 12:19 PM In: ,
My last post was a year ago? Damn.

Anyway, I'll be posting more often now because I have more time. Three units left and a thesis to finish next semester then I'll be walking down the aisle with my white dress. I'm not getting married (yet, that is); I'll be graduating next semester *fingers crossed* and graduates traditionally wear white clothes during the ceremony with the signature sablay (it's like a sash, google it). Yes, I'm from the University of the Philippines and we tend to do things differently.

The original plan was to write something about these little green insects that hang out near our light bulb every night. But I won't be writing about that tonight because it requires a very detailed description about how much they pester my photoshopping sessions and movie marathons. Instead, I'll be posting something I wrote on my final exam in Creative Writing two semesters ago. Our teacher asked us to write something called... I forgot... and it's supposed to explain things in a way... I also forgot. I learned a lot from that course but the technical stuff weren't part of it, I guess.

Anyway, here it is, a little essay about Tragedy.

Tama naman. Ang pinaka-magandang genre ng literature ay ang tragedy. Isipin na ninyong twisted ako mag-isip tulad ng karaniwang komento ng mga mambabasa ng aking mga kwento, pero kaya kong idepensa kung bakit mas maganda pa ang trahedya kaysa sa romansa ang tema.

Ang trahedya kasi, tulad marahil ng alam ng nakararami, ang genre ng literature kung saan namamatay sa dulo ang bida o isa sa mga bida ng kwento. Tama, ang karaniwang paningin sa mga trahedya ay ang tinatawag na “unhappy ending”, taliwas marahil sa mga nakasanayan nating kwento na gawa ng Walt Disney Pictures. Iyan kasi ang problema minsan sa mga mambabasa—ang huling pahina lang ng libro madalas ang nakakagawa ng malaking impak sa kanila. Minsan, iyon lang ang naaalala nila. Kaya nga madalas kong naririnig sa mga kwentuhan ng mga kaibigan ko ang mga salitang, “Basta, ang ending no’n e…” tuwing makukuwentuhan sila tungkol sa nabasa nilang libro. Madalas din, hanggang ending lang ng libro ang kaya nilang intindihin.

Hindi ko minamaliit ang kakayahang magbasa ng mga tao. Itinuturo ko lang ang mga madalas kong nao-obserbahan ayon sa limitado kong karanasan sa pakikihalubilo sa mga tao. Karamihan kasi sa kanila ayaw sa mga kwentong namamatay ang mga bida. Dahil paborito ko nga ang trahedyang genre, hindi ko naman maiwasang itanong kung bakit ayaw nila sa paborito ko.

Ang madalas nilang sagot: E kasi hindi dapat ganoon ang nangyari!

E ano ba ang dapat na nangyari? Kumbaga sa kwentong “Romeo and Juliet”, dapat ba hindi na lang sila uminom ng lason at hinayaan na lang nilang maghiwalay sila o ‘di naman kaya ay magtanan na lang? Iniisip ko pa lang na ganoon nga ang nangyari sa “Romeo and Juliet” ay bawas na kaagad and aesthetic value ng kwentong iyon.

Pero bakit ko ba kasi nasabing pinaka-magandang genre ng literature ang tragedy? Simple: Kasi element nito ang kamatayan.

Bago ninyo sabihing emo ako o goth, himayin muna natin kung ano ang kamatayan.

Sa literature kasi o kahit sa totoong buhay, ang kamatayan ay ang pinakamasahol na uri ng paghihiwalay at pinakahuling paraan ng pagsasama. Dahil sa katangian ng kamatayan na iyon, madaling nagagalaw ang emosyon ng mambabasa at bubulusok ito agad sa pinakamataas na lebel. Gamitin natin ulit ang “Romeo and Juliet” ni Shakespeare na halimbawa. Dito namayani ang katangian ng kamatayan na nagbibigay ng imortal na pagsasama. Oo, namatay silang dalawa, pero kung titignan nating mabuti ang emosyon na nadama natin noong namatay sila, hindi naman talaga lungkot ang namayani—pag-ibig.

May kakayahan kasi ang kamatayan na dalhin tayo sa pinakamataas na lebel ng ating emosyon, depende kung papaano namatay ang bida. Namatay siya kasama ang mahal niya—pag-ibig. Napatay siya para sa mahal niya—pag-ibig pa rin. Namatay siya dahil nagtagumpay ang kontra-bida—galit. Namatay siya na hindi natapos ang layunin niya sa kwento—lungkot at pagkabigo. Minsan, paghahalu-haluin pa lahat ng mga iyan hanggang sa hindi mo na alam ang mararamdaman mo. At iyon ang ayaw ng tao sa trahedya.

Karaniwan sa atin kasi nagbabasa para matakasan ang realidad. Ang trahedya naman, kahit fantastic pa ang tema ng kwento, kaya niya pa ring dalhin ka pabalik sa realidad ng mundo mo dahil sa element ng kamatayan. Lahat naman kasi sa atin, kung hindi takot sa kamatayan, takot mamatay.

Isa pa, bida kasi o ‘di naman kaya ay malapit sa bida ang namamatay sa trahedya. Ito ang mga karakter sa kwento na binubuo sa isipan natin para mahalin. Kaya ganoon na lang tayo ka-apektado kapag namamatay sila. Ayaw natin sa ideya na namamatay ang mga mahal natin. Sino bang gusto, hindi ba?

Minsan naman, hindi kamatayan na pisikal ng bida ang ayaw natin. Kamatayan naman ng ideya natin sa bida. Kaya kasing manipulahin ng manunulat lahat ng bagay sa kwento. Kaya niyang itago ang lahat tapos isang bagkasan na ihahain sa iyo.

Ang trahedya kasi, kaya tayong ibalik sa katotohanan na hindi lahat ng inaakala natin ay ang siyang mangyayari. Ibinubukas nito ang isipan natin na ang kamatayan ay walang pinipiling kahit sino at kahit kalian. Tuwing nagbabasa tayo, gusto nating takasan ang mga katotohanang iyon. At dahil hindi iyon ang nangyayari sa trahedya, karaniwan sa mga mambabasa ay ayaw sa trahedya.

Pero sa isang manunulat, wala nang mas rewarding pa kundi ang makita mong nagkaroon ng epekto ang isinulat mo sa mambabasa. Sa isang mambabasang bukas ang isip, wala nang mas gaganda pa sa isang literaturang kayang ipadama ang isang bagay na babaguhin ang pananaw mo sa buhay. At iyan mismo ang ginagawa ng trahedya.

Ipapadama nito sa iyo kung gaano mo tini-take for granted ang mga taong mahal mo. Pinapadama niya sa iyo kung gaano kaiksi ang buhay at kung gaano mo sinasayang ang mga natitira mong segundo.

Kung mambabasa ka na mayroong malawak na pang-unawa, tatanggapin mo ang katangian ng trahedya na ito bilang isang paraan para mapabuti mo ang pagkatao mo at pananatili mo sa mundong ito. Pero kung isa kang mambabasa na sarado ang isip, ang trahedyang napakagandang pagbuhos ng emosyon sa isang sulatin ay itatapon mo lang at sisisihin mo pa dahil pinapangit niya ang araw mo. #


I got a grade of 1.25 for this essay. And when my professor handed me my paper, he said he could have given me a flat 1 if gave it a title which totally left my brain during the exam. I came in late and I thought I was running out of time.. I told him that I was not aware that we were supposed to give it a title. He said, "Essay 'yan, malamang may title dapat." So I happily took my 1.25. For a rushed paper, I think I did pretty well.



Rest in Peace, Junko Furuta.

Posted on 11:44 PM In:
"There's nothing you can do to help her now, is there?"

Oo. Marahil tama siya. There is nothing I can do to help her now and that is basically why I cannot stand the thought that nobody helped her when they could. Not even her parents. Bakit? Kasi takot silang mamatay? Kaya hinayaan na lang nila na mabuhay ang anak nila sa impyerno sa loob ng 44 na araw.

Sabi kasi ng best friend ko, "Think happy thoughts," pagkatapos kong halos mawala sa sarili pagkabasa ko sa istorya niya. Sobrang apektado ako. Hindi ko alam ano exactly ang emotion na naramdaman ko. First time iyon. First time kong naramdaman ang 'mixed emotions'. Sobrang mixed nga talaga.

Sagot ko sa best friend ko sa 'happy thoughts' suggestion niya, "Thinking of happy thoughts makes me feel guilty." At totoo naman. How can I possibly think of happy thoughts kung alam kong posibleng isang kagaya niya ang maaaring nire-rape sa mga oras na ito o sinisilaban ng buhay? Paano ako mag-iisip ng happy thoughts kung alam kong ang happy thought na natira sa kanya ng mga oras na iyon ay ang mamatay na lang siya at nang matapos na ang pagpapahirap sa kanya? Paano ako mag-iisip ng happy thoughts kung alam kong hindi niya nakamit ang hustisya sa buhay na ito dahil nakalaya ang mga nilalang na lumapastangan sa kanya?

"There's nothing you can do to help her now, is there?" sagot ng best friend ko. Naiyak na lang ako. Kasi tama siya. I hate the feeling na alam kong someone somewhere could have saved her. Or at least those 4 creatures shouldn't have been born. Or their parents should've never met. It kills me na wala ni isang tumulong dahil sa takot. Pucha, apat na lalaki lang iyon! Teenagers! Babae siya at wala siyang kayang gawin kundi hingin ang tulong ng parents niya pero iyong kaisa-isang hope niyang iyon, natakot pa.

As I write this, naiiyak na naman ako. Who knew I could be so sensitive? My tough image is being stepped on right now, but I'd rather have that than have the image of her face being brutally mutilated by 4 creatures replaying in my head. Paulit-ulit.

Sobrang disturbed ako ngayon. I've never been more disturbed. Tulad nga ng sinabi ko kay Dawnson, nayurak ang moral ko at ang tiwala ko sa tao. Si Dawnson naman, sabi niya hindi naman siya gaanong na-disturb. Alam niya na capable ang tao na gumawa ng supposed unimaginable things.

Sabi ko kasi, natatakot akong matulog tonight kasi, considering how my brain works, maaaring magkaroon ako ng nightmare about it tonight. Nabuhay din ang takot ko sa dilim. Naging hyper-active ang sense of hearing ko at sense of sight. Mabuti na lang at katabi ko si Mama at Chibi matulog tonight. Kung hindi, baka hindi na talaga ako matutulog.

Dati naman kasi, inaamin kong mababa ang tiwala ko sa tao. Anti-social nga sabi ni Ara. Pero ngayon, feeling ko kinahihiya ko na rin na naging ka-uri ko ang mga lalaking iyon. Repulsive.
I still don't know exactly what to do with myself right now, but my plan of going out more often just flew out the window. Joining orgs won't happen. Stepping out of the door alone isn't a possibility. Hello, pepperspray. Or just get me a gun, please. I'm sleepy. I'll write again tomorrow when I wake up. See if I'm feeling better. Then maybe then I could think of something to help her.


October 29, 2009 / 12:50 am
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For details about Junko Furuta, google it, people. Not for the faint-hearted and people with wide imagination or you'll end up writing a blog such as this, too.

Stream of Thoughts

Posted on 6:06 PM In: ,
Rules: Write down the first thing that pops in your head. NO EDITING ALLOWED!
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I am alone at last with my paper and pen. This alone-time with my two best friends in the world would only take a while. I think I should savor each second while it lasts.

In a bedroom I share with my sister, I rest my back on a stack of pillows and start to write. The mirror attached to my closet's door is covered with a long cloth. I stared at it, and for some reason, my heart started to pound. I just heard the computer room's door downstairs close-- in a few minutes, Ara's going to be here and if the situation gets awkward that I'm still writing this, I shall stop.

It's usually at this hour that my brain is very much alive. I hear everything. I smell everything. I see everything. I hear even my neighbor's cough. I smell the wind's weird scent as it rushes in from my window. I see even the slightest movement of an out-of-place cockroach and house lizard.

There, I heard something from outside again. My heart's beat slightly went faster. It's back to normal now. Right now, I'm still thinking why I'm writing this. I think I might post this.

I've been thinking of... Ara's here. She's standing beside me. She just climbed to bed as she said, "Hey, you're still awake." She's lying beside me now and is randomly singing songs from Rent. Did I mention we share a bed?

Guess she doesn't care that I'm still writing and that I didn't recognize her at all when she came in.

The wind swooshes and I can hear the leaves rustling outside. I think it's raining. The light's still on.

Don't you just hate it when a teddy bear, no matter how cute they look, just sits there and stares at nothing? It's like it's mocking you. I'm still staring at the teddy bear sitting at my bed's foot. And it hasn't moved a millimeter. It's scaring me already.

Oh well. Usually, at this hour, I'm already reflecting as to why I'm still single. But I didn't watch anything romantic enough to make me feel empty tonight. But usually, I do. Just not tonight. It's a good thing, really.

I wonder what it is that repels guys from me. Right now, it doesn't affect me, but when it's one of those nights that a romantic scene is stuck in my head, I usually care as to why I'm still single.

Turning the page broke me from my trance.

Here's another thought: I wonder what it's like to be cuddled. I've watched enough movies and I think cuddling is something I would enjoy. Cuddling. That part only. Cuddling only. Wow, I just stopped myself from writing something in here. I broke my own rule. But then again, I always do.

My hand now hurts. Non-stop writing. I haven't paused yet; not even to think. Stream of thoughts, that's what this is called. Nice mental exercise.

I wonder if I can write down some poetry tonight and turn it into some awesome lyrics. I guess I can't because then I would have to stop and think. And I can't do that. I guess I'm not as talented with words as Dawnson.

Yikes, that bear is still there. Gosh, but then I would freak out more if suddenly it's not there and is already beside me.

Gosh, I just scared myself.

Oh well, good night. I'll read this when I wake up. :D

Cheerio!
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Finished writing this on paper at exactly 12:00 midnight.

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